Goldflame: Mage's Dream
by Andi de Tarauger
Summary: (Rating may go up) Meet Meg of King's Reach. She's eleven, shy, timid, stubborn, and has more of a Gift than she knows how to use. And she wants to be a knight...Chapter Seven up: Elris returns to claim his daughter. Who will help Meg face her father?
1. Prologue

A/N: 'Ello, everyone, welcome to my very first Tamora Pierce fic!! :D This occurs about a year after Lady Knight, and a year before Trickster's Choice (which I, um, haven't read ::cough::). I tend to skim and not read thoroughly when I'm deeply into a book, so please, if I get any facts wrong, correct me! ::grin:: Meg's a very different character from my usual girl – or Tamora's usual girls, come to that – but I like her anyway ::huggles her::

Disclaimer: Tortall and all assorted lands belong to Tamora Pierce. Meg, Sir Elris, and any other chars I introduce later all belong to me. They're mine! Allllll mine! Bwahahahahah!! ::cackle:: ::calms down:: Ahem. Yeaaaah.

So, here goes...enjoy!****

**:: Goldflame: Mage's Dream ::**

Prologue

There was a timid knock on the study door. Sir Elris of King's Reach looked up from his paperwork and impatiently muttered, "Come in, come in."

The door opened slowly, and Elris's youngest child and only daughter, Megenne, stepped in, biting her lip shyly.

"Megenne?" Elris sighed and took a deep drink from the flask next to him before returning to his paperwork. "Come closer, child, so I don't have to strain my neck looking at you."

The girl did so, wishing her father wouldn't call her Megenne and wondering why he told her to come closer if he was just going to continue doing paperwork. But she kept her teeth firmly in her lip, not speaking a word of her thoughts.

"And do stop biting your lip," Elris added in a lazy tone. "It's such a vulgar habit."

Meg's teeth instantly retreated back into her mouth; a flush appeared on her pale face.

Elris actually put his pen down to stare at his daughter. "You're far too easily embarrassed and flustered, Megenne," he told her in a stern tone. "It's not ladylike to take everything so personally."

What if I don't wish to be ladylike? Meg thought, but the thought was in a tremulous whisper, and she looked down, trying to stop herself from shaking. She wondered if this was such a good idea after all – would Elris even listen to her, or take her seriously?

"Well, what is it, child?" Elris demanded, taking another swig and going back to his paperwork.

Meg struggled valiantly and bitterly against a harsh reply; if he was just going to work while she talked, it showed just how much he cared. But he _was _her father; what could she do? She was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea, but turning away now would only annoy Elris more.

"I..." she began; her voice cracked. Elris looked up at her with stern grey eyes; Meg felt her resolve shake as embarrassment filled her. She gulped a few times, very aware of her flush, then began again. "I...I w-...I wa..."

Her voice continued to shake as her chagrin grew. She didn't seem to be able to speak at all. Elris let out a sigh of frustration. "Spit it out, child."

The atmosphere grew more and more tense. Finally Meg blurted, "I want to be a knight!"

The silence that followed was the kind of silence that followed a priceless crystal vase shattering. When Elris finally spoke, Meg could barely supress a cry of woe at her timing; it was a tone filled with rage, fury, and laced with just a hint of drunkenness. "_What _did you say?"

Meg opened her mouth to repeat it, but the flask that was thrown at her and hit her cheek stopped all speech from escaping her. Crying out from pain, Meg clapped a hand to the bruise she was sure was forming there.

Elris got to his feet and strode over to his daughter, grabbing her wrist and twisting it sharply with one hand, then backhanding her across the face with the other. When she stumbled away, crying openly now, he said in a low, harsh, slightly slurred voice, "Go. Now. Get out of my sight." When she didn't move, he took a step forward. She began to run; he caught her by the hair and pulled. She cried out again. "In the _proper fashion, _Megenne!"

Shaking with pain, tears, and fury, Meg lowered herself into the formal bow made to acknowledge the head of the household and held it for five full counts. When she dared raise her eyes, Elris nodded in grim satisfaction. "You are dismissed. And never let me hear this nonsense about you being a knight again. You haven't the temperament for it, Megenne."

Meg was unable to speak, think, or do anything save obey. Once she had closed her father's study door, a yelp of desperate pain (both emotional and physical), as well as a fresh flood of tears, overwhelmed her, and she ran outside.


	2. Conspiracy

A/N: This was originally going to go with the prologue, to be Chapter One, but I decided it was too long...so here goes. 

Chapter One: Conspiracy 

Sir Faleron of King's Reach held his sister tightly as she cried, shaking with suppressed rage. "Easy, Meg," he whispered, kissing her forehead and hugging her again before he gently disentangled her from his embrace and sat her down next to him. He took the bowl of water and dipped a rag into it. "What happened?"

She sniffled a bit, then looked up at him. Faleron was, as always, struck by her appearance; while Faleron and his father were both solidly built, slender but muscular, capable of handling themselves, Meg always looked like she would be blow away in a strong wind. She was onlyslightly too thin; her pale skin made her look even more fragile. Everything about Meg was delicate – her slim fingers, the long-lashed light grey eyes that she shared with her brother, her willowy build, her tiny nose, her height. She looked, Faleron thought sadly, just like their mother, though she, like her brother, had her father's dark hair. It fell forward in a curtain to hide her face as she looked away.

Faleron put two fingers under Meg's chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "Meg," he said gently, "stay still." He touched the rag to her cheek, beginning to clean the cuts on it. "Don't worry. I won't yell, or scold. You know me."

Meg sniffled again. Her eyes filled with tears anew, and Faleron sighed to himself. He had been an only child until he was nine, when his mother Kierana gave birth to Meg. The girl was a novelty to him, and he'd taken care of her until he went to Corus to become a knight. Meanwhile, Kierana, weak from childbirth, had wasted away and died before Meg was two. Devastated by this loss, Elris had undergone a transformation, gaining a quicker temper and a love for alcohol. Without Faleron, the son he loved and doted on, he turned his anger on Meg. He'd forbidden her to play with the village children, and instead kept her inside, causing her skin to go pale. When he was drunk, which was often, he beat her. Consequently, Meg had grown shy and introverted, but with a quick temper. It was an odd mix of personalities, and she was an odd girl. Faleron, though, loved her, despite the difference in their ages. He knew he was her only friend, her protector, and he took this role very seriously, especially now that he was a knight.

"Meg, spill it," Faleron said softly, continuing to clean her cut. "What did you say to Father?"

Meg winced. She looked up at her brother, then looked away and said quickly, "I told him I wanted to be a knight."

Faleron dropped the rag. "What?!" he demanded, thunderstruck, staring at his wisp of a sister.

Meg's eyes filled with tears. "I knew you'd say that," she whispered.

Faleron instantly felt guilty. He leaned forward to hug his sister. "Meg, I didn't mean it like that...I was just surprised, is all." When she remained silent, Faleron cursed his father for making her so timid, and whispered, "Meg, I'm not Father. You can talk to me."

Meg nodded. "Well...it's true."

"I can see that." Faleron chuckled, then added, "I never knew you wanted to be a knight."

Meg looked up at him. "Whose fault is that?" Her voice was gently teasing, but Faleron took her words to heart. All her interest in his duties as a knight, her desire to meet his famous friends – including Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, as well as the knight who'd been squire to the famous Lioness – and her wish to learn the basics of hand-to-hand combat and sword-fighting...Faleron shook his head. How did he _not _notice Meg's ambition earlier?

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Meg said softly, hugging Faleron. "I'm a mysterious girl, I know." She winked at him, and Faleron felt a rush of pride. He _had _instilled some backbone into the girl after all.

Faleron tickled Meg, making her giggle and shove him away. "You are indeed, little one. Now..." He leaned against the tree, studying his sister through dark eyelashes. "Enlighten me. Why?"

Meg rolled over onto her stomach, toying with a blade of grass. No one would take her as the type to be a knight – not with her timid nature, fragile build, and aversion to conflict. "I want to help people," she said softly, her grey eyes distant. "I hate being helpless...picked on...I want to make sure that doesn't happen to anyone else. I want to protect the small."

Faleron chuckled again. "I'm afraid Kel's already taken that title, little one."

"Not like _that_," Meg protested. "Nothing so melodramatic. I don't want grand things...don't want to do great things, go down in history. Well..." she amended sheepishly, "maybe I do. But that's not the main reason. I don't want combat or great battles. I want to protect the people, like your group did at the refugee camps."

"We did see battle, though," Faleron said softly, recalling last year's events.

"I know you did. Which is why it won't do for me to become a lady or anything." Her voice was scornful. "If I'm going to protect the common people, I must know combat. And I'm not going to get decent combat training moping around King's Reach."

Faleron heard the bitterness in her tone; his heart went out to his sister, isolated and beaten by their father all of her young life. "And you waited until now to tell him? It took you eleven years to get the courage to talk to him?"

Meg nodded, still playing with the grass. "I knew he wouldn't take it well..." she said quietly, dreamily.

Faleron knew that for all her shyness, Meg had a streak of determined stubbornness in her. He could sense her repressed sense of duty and love for her fellow people, her true willingness to help those in need; that was her dream. Faleron had sensed the same spark in Kel when she was younger – heck, she still had it. He wouldn't try to talk Meg out of it. "You know it'll be hard," he said softly.

Meg nodded. "I don't care. I want to learn. It'll be hard on me, 'cause I'm so small and skinny...I'll probably bruise myself to death and back before I learn anything." She grinned ruefully. "But I don't care. I'll survive. And either way, I'll have some knowledge of how to defend myself and others. That'll be invaluable when I help you with King's Reach, when we're older."

Faleron noted that she was already taking it for granted that she'd give up or be sent home. It was true – he couldn't see his dreamy, shy sister becoming a knight. However, he did think it would be good for her, to get some training and accustom herself with the palace. "You're obedient...that'll help you a lot with training," he mused. "And you don't meddle in other people's business. You're small, but you're endurant. I think you'll last at least a year." There was, however, one big worry on Faleron's mind, and he spoke it now. "But that's not what worries me, Meg. I know _you _can do it. You're not the problem. The other lads...that's where the problem lies. I know when Kel came to the palace, it took the lads – and me, even – a long time to accept her. Some were outright poisonous."

"None of you were, though," Meg said softly, referring to the circle of knights that were still Kel's friends. "And you accepted her in the end."

"No, we weren't," Faleron agreed, "and yes, we did. You'll make friends too, but it'll take time. And not all of the boys will be your friends." He reached out to gently touch his sister's cheek. "You're so sensitive, Meglet. What'll you do when some of the boys ransack your room, steal your things, set traps for you, are plain _mean, _just because you're a girl?"

Meg looked scared, but she gulped and said slowly, with determination, "Whatever they do...I'm sure I've had worse."

Faleron hugged his sister tightly, then; she squealed and wriggled away. They sat there, Faleron under the tree and Meg on her stomach, playing with the blade of grass, for a while. The twenty-year-old knight spoke, then, gingerly voicing his other major concern. "What of your Gift?"

Meg didn't answer, but focused her attention on the blade of grass in front of her. She let it hover at the tip of her finger, then looked at it. Tendrils of golden fire crept out from her finger, covering the grass for a few seconds. She held her hands out under it; the ashes of the grass fell slowly through the air, then swirled around above Meg's hands in a sort of ballet. Then they came together in the shape of the blade of grass and stayed still in the air. Meg closed two fingers around the base of the ashes; they slowly came together and turned green, to reveal the blade of grass again.

Meg handed it to Faleron. "I hate it," she pronounced finally.

Faleron had to grin faintly at the murderous expression on her face. Elris hated the Gift, not having it himself, and was terrified and furious when it appeared in his daughter. But he couldn't entirely ignore it; after all, the flame of her gift was golden, and it was strong. Even Faleron, who wasn't Gifted himself, could sense it. The mage Numair Salmalín, when Faleron had come to the palace, had apparently sensed a "fingerprint" of strong magic on him, and promptly questioned him about it. Faleron was stunned to find out that only the strongest mages, such as Numair himself or Lady Alanna the Lioness, left those kinds of marks. In later years, as the "fingerprint" grew stronger, Numair asked Faleron if he would be able to tutor his sister. Faleron, however, had advised the mage not to get mixed up in his family affairs – not only did Elris hate and fear the Gift, but so did Meg. She restrained herself to lighting candles – never in Elris's prescence, of course – and little stunts like this one. It was difficult for her to supress the nature of her magic, Faleron could see that – perhaps she could get training at the palace, maybe even from Numair.

When he voiced this opinion to Meg, she yelped and sat up. "I won't get training!" she cried, her voice anxious. "Is that why you're supporting me? You want me to become a _mage _instead of a knight? No! I hate my Gift! I hate it, hate it, hate it! If I ignore it, it won't be so strong, and I'll get some peace! Can't you leave well enough alone?"

Faleron winced; it wasn't often that he was on the recieving end of his sister's temper. Meg was patient, but for all her usual shyness, she was ferocious when angry. Idly, the young knight wondered if it was a requirement for female knights to have incredible fits of anger. "Sorry, Meglet," he apologized, spreading his arms out in a peace offering. "That's not what I meant...it's just, the best mage in the realm, Numair Salmalín, expressed an interest in teaching you...I thought he might teach you control, maybe some useful things...if you don't want to, it's all right."

Meg bit her lip, before remembering what Elris had said about that, and instantly let it go. She nodded, then flung herself into Faleron's arms. "I'm sorry too," she whispered into her brother's shoulder. "I'm just scared...if he can teach me control, I'll be happy...I really want this, Faleron...I want to be a knight..."

"I know you do, Meglet," Faleron whispered, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair. "And I'll do everything in my power to realize your dream."

Meg pulled away; her eyes shone in delight. "You mean..."

Faleron nodded solemnly, conspiratorially. "Father's leaving in three days. Once he's gone, start packing. I'm taking you to Corus next week."

Meg let out a shriek of glee; she flung her arms around Faleron, kissed his cheek, and ran off, looking happier than Faleron had seen her in months. He grinned; moments like this made being a big brother worthwhile.


	3. Corus

A/N: O.O Wow...I got some nice feedback...much thanks, Rachel, whitewater-spirit, EbonyFirePhoenix, and Fyli! I appreciate the reviews and their messages :D Thanks muchly, all of you! ::bounce::

Here goes, chapter two...I'm pretty sure that I won't get too far ahead with my OCs in this one, so I still only own Meg...Padraig might not be entirely IC, but then again, the only thing said about him is that he's conservative. I've tried to make him conservative but not stiff...not entirely revolutionary, but likeable nonetheless...and Faleron is once again the protective older brother. ::wry grin:: Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Corus

Faleron sat astride his black mare, Raven, gently stroking her mane as he waited for Meg to finish packing. Millions of worries were racing through his mind – first and foremost, how furious his father would be that he'd taken Meg to Corus. He'd just have to pray that a father's love for his son would overpower Elris's views, fury, and drunken rage. In the end, it just might be enough. _Mithros protect me, _Faleron thought, then added, _and my sister. On second thought, protect her only – she needs it more than I do._

Faleron was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Meg attach a final saddlebag to Raven. He was only aware of her presence when she mounted up behind him and said softly, "Are you really taking me to Corus?"

"No, to the Yamani Islands on holiday," Faleron replied, turning around to tousle his sister's hair. He couldn't get used to its sudden shortness; Meg's hair had always been thick, glossy black, and at least waist-length. Now, she'd cut it to her earlobes to make training easier. Her grey eyes were slightly darker than normal, and Faleron could see sparks of gold drifting between her fingers. She was scared, and he couldn't blame her.

Leaning back, Faleron kissed his sister's forehead. "I'm here until we get to the palace, Meglet," he said encouragingly. "If you change your mind..."

"I won't," she cut him off, and smiled at him, brightly.

She reached for his hand; he took it, and squeezed it. She put her arms around his waist, and they set off.

_**:::::**_

Lord Padraig haMinch bowed in respect to Faleron, and he to him in return. He then inclined his head at Meg, with a small smile. Meg, unused to being acknowledged, was flustered; she dropped him too low of a curtsy.

Padraig grinned, then. "No need to curtsy so low. I am not royalty – Megenne, is it?"

"Meg, please, my lord," Meg corrected softly, then flushed with embarrassment. "I – I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't – I wasn't trying to – I – " She broke off then, looking close to tears.

Paidraig glanced at Faleron, who bit his lip. The older man just shook his head. "You need not be so uneasy, child," he said with a smile. "I've a daughter about your age; I won't hurt you." Meg looked worried for a second, then smiled shakily, visibly relaxing.

This made Faleron ease up, too – his sister was an excellent judge of character. As Padraig offered her as well as her brother a chair, he studied the man. He was famed for being more conservative and somewhat more reclusive than his charismatic younger brother Kieran. However, Padraig was an easygoing man – no slouch, but certainly far less stiff than Lord Wyldon had been. Faleron could tell that though he was conservative, he was fair – he would treat Meg like his own daughter, but discipline her as one of the pages.

"Now, let us discuss the probation terms," Lord Padraig said slowly, sitting down himself. "You are, of course, familiar with the probation set up for Lady Keladry?" Meg nodded. "Well, you will undergo something similar. I will do my best to keep the probation fair – you deserve an equal chance as the boys." Lord Padraig smiled, but Faleron sensed something behind it – unease, perhaps, or disagreement.

So he didn't really believe all that he was saying of equality, Faleron thought, frowning slightly. However, he still believed that Padraig's sense of justice would prevent him from discriminating against Meg, no matter how conservative the man might be.

As Lord Padraig went through the palace rules and regulations, Meg looked at him instead – Faleron had already told her everything that being a page entailed. He was tall, broad-shouldered, heavier than his younger brother – whom Meg had seen a few times, but from a distance. He had deep, dark brown eyes that were thoughtful and piercing, as well as a tightly curled, orderly crop of dark hair. He looked to be about her father's age, perhaps some years younger, and limber despite it; there were the remains of scars on his face. He appeared intelligent and thoughtful, but strict...conservative but fair. Meg would have to be on her best behaviour around him, but perhaps she could be herself, too.

"Meg?"

The girl's head jerked up – she'd been too lost in thought to hear what Lord Padraig had been saying. She immediately flushed dark. "S-sorry, my lord?"

The man simply grinned, as if he understood perfectly. "I said, when the supper bell rings, the new pages will be recieving sponsors. Would you like to say goodbye to your brother before you go to your room and unpack your things?"

Meg nodded so ferociously she felt as though her head would drop off. Lord Padraig simply smiled and got up, exiting the room. "I will give you two a moment."

The instant he left, Meg flung herself at Faleron and hugged him tightly, as though she would never let go. "Meglet, I need to breathe," the young knight protested, but returned her fierce embrace tightly, swinging her up into his arms as he always used to do when she was younger. Again they embraced, exchanging a brief, wordless gesture of love.

The moment was tender and meaningful for Faleron, who felt almost as though Meg was his daughter. He was deeply protective of her and loved her – he prayed that she would survive her eight years of ordeal. For Meg, though, the moment was even more precious. In the eleven years she'd been alive, Faleron had been her confidante, her protector, her best friend. Almost more of a father than her real one. He'd been all she had, and now she would be alone in an unfamiliar, potentially unfriendly place. Meg buried her head in Faleron's shouilder; she wasn't sure her spirit would be able to stand being away from her brother so long.

As if he could read her thoughts – which it often seemed like he could do – Faleron held his sister even closer. "You will see me every summer, I promise," he whispered gently. "You'll write to me too, won't you?" A nod. "And I'll write back. Don't cry, Meglet..." He gently lifted her chin to reveal that she was, indeed, crying; little flickers of gold flame danced down her cheeks. She wiped them away ferociously.

"You'll be fine," Faleron promised her softly. "I believe in you, and I will pray for you. May the gods watch over you, Meglet."

He gently kissed her forehead, and she hugged him one last time, kissing his cheek. They clasped hands tightly, and Faleron left the room quickly, so that Meg wouldn't see the tears forming in his eyes.

Outside, Lord Padraig faced Faleron. "I know how it is, sir Faleron...I was protective of my brother, too..."

Faleron nodded. "If it's not too much to ask..." he began. "She's sensitive...gentle...unused to the harshness of knight life. I'm not asking you to go easy on her," he added hurriedly, "or to show favoritism because she's a girl...but...simple courtesy, tact..." He trailed off, wondering how best to phrase this.

Lord Padraig seemed to read his mind, and clasped Faleron's forearm in the traditional greeting of knights. "Don't worry, sir," he said softly. "I'm not Lord Wyldon."

Faleron wasn't sure what to do, so he just nodded again, solemnly, returned the gesture, bowed, and left.

Padraig entered the room again, only to find Meg sobbing in the chair. He bit his lip, then placed a hand on her shoulder and handed her a handkerchief. "It isn't as if you shall never see him again," was all he could think of saying.

Meg sniffed a little. "I know," she said softly, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. "I'm being a bit silly. Better not cry like that around the boys..." She smiled hesitantly. "It's just hard...it was hard enough when Faleron left, but now I am too..." She suddenly looked ready to cry again.

"None of that," Lord Padraig admonished gently. "Go to your rooms now, and unpack. It'll be sponsor time soon." As she got up, Padraig quickly added, "Oh yes – and welcome to Corus and the palace, Meg."

Meg looked back at him, surprised, and smiled gently. "Thank you, sir." She bowed again, then left.

**_:::::_**

About an hour later, Meg sat in a broken chair near the door, unease and anxiety written all over her face. Her room had been wrecked – nothing was untouched. They'd scrawled threats and insults on the wall, ransacked her bed and desk, and the bathroom soaped. Meg had insisted on helping the servants clean up, and they patiently accepted their helper until Salma Aynnar, head of servants in the pages' wing, had kindly but firmly told her to hurry and clean up for supper.

Meg had done so, putting on a simple white shift and a blue dress with silvery embroidery on the sleeves, neckline, and hem. She'd pulled back what she could of her hair with a silvery clip and used her Gift to dry her eyes. No use in appearing weak before the others – though, she'd realized, in time they'd figure out how sensitive and easily scared she was, and use it against her.

Now these thoughts, of her future trials and all she might encounter, ran through her head when the supper bell rang. Loudly, Meg thought, clapping both hands to her ears and getting up to go.

Salma chuckled as she watched the small, slender girl dart from the room with her hands over her ears. Not as spirited as Lady Kel had been, nor as strong or solid-looking. But she just might survive, Salma thought with a grin. She just might survive.


	4. Rick

A/N: Ack! Much apologies for taking so long...I've got a final project for my AP World History class, and a physics test to study for...x.X I promise once summer comes around, I'll try to update more often!!

Thanks muchly, Fyli, ITSALLABOUTME, Rubber Duck (I appreciate the one-review-per-chapter, LOL), emikae, Steph Silverstar (I looove Faleron ::grin:: Be on the lookout for a fic about him soon!), Lizai, and lady-anna-bee (I know, I hate those x.X Hence my Meg, LOL...). I appreciate all the reviews so much, and I wish there was some way to thank everyone who enjoys this fic so much :D

Disclaimer: Oooooh, I actually have some OCs here!! Joy!! Basically...I don't own the concept of Tortall, Padraig, Neal, Faleron, or Lord Wyldon...but I do own 'most everyone else. Woohoo for OCs!!

Chapter Three: Rick

Meg sidled out into the hall and went to where Lord Padraig had showed her to go. There, she found four boys who were standing on one side of the room – they all looked about her age. The older boys were on the other side of the room, with Lord Padraig.

Meg nervously took her place among the boys, among whispers and stifled laughter. Padraig shot her an encouraging glance before launching into a speech about sponsors. While he spoke, however, there seemed to be a knot of older boys not listening to what he was saying. Some kept glancing at Meg, which made her sure they were talking about her.

She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but she knew a way to be able to. Slowly, she lowered her chin into her hand and stuck a finger in her ear. Gold flame shimmered around its tip for a while; suddenly, the sound was magnified, and she could hear the older boys as clearly as if they were standing right next to her.

"A girl, is it? Mithros, look at her!"

"She looks like she'd break in half if you hit her hard enough."

"Better not let the training master hear you talk about abusing the girl."

"You know she's going to be abused whether or not we talk about it."

"Not by us, I hope."

"Of course not. I'm not _cruel_, just a little tactless."

"You know, I like the look of her. I think I'll volunteer to be her sponsor."

"What?! You're crazy."

"Thank you."

"In Mithros's name, _why? _Lord Padraig needs no more reason to dislike you!"

"Meg?"

Meg's head shot up, her expression startled and guilty. A flush spread over her face, to the obvious amusion of her fellow pages. She glanced at the older boys and noticed a handsome one with brown hair and eyes grinning at her. She caught his eye; he winked. Meg blushed darker, fairly sure that this was the one who'd spoken of being her sponsor.

She met Lord Padraig's eyes. "I was just making sure you heard...it's time for you to recieve a sponsor. Please state your name and fief."

Meg cleared her throat a few times too much. "Um...Megenne...of, um, King's Reach," she stammered out, looking at the floor.

Lord Padraig glanced at the older pages. "Who would like to be Megenne's – "

"Sir?" The voice was of the page who'd winked at her; Meg's suspicions about him were confirmed. "If you'll let me, sir," he continued in a cheerful tone, "I'd like to sponsor her."

Lord Padraig studied him carefully, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Very well," he said finally, in a voice tight with dislike. "Roderick of Cavall, you will be her sponsor."

The boy grinned and moved to stand beside Meg, who was now staring at him in shock. "Cavall?!" she mouthed in disbelief.

Roderick nodded, grimacing. "I'll explain later," he whispered, turning his attention to the other pages.

Meg gulped, but followed his lead. Cavall...as in Wyldon of Cavall, the training master that Keladry of Mindelan had been under. He had been a conservative who hated change; Keladry had barely passed his probation. Meg felt like something had crept into her stomach and died. Who was Roderick – his nephew, his cousin, his – Mithros forbid – _son_? Why had he chosen her?

Still feeling ill, Meg watched the four other pages get sponsors. Astor of Rosemark, a cool-faced boy with dark brown hair and blue eyes, was sponsored by Regan of Blythdin, who cast a glance at Meg that made her feel lower than pond scum. Chestnut-haired Donegal of Veldine, whose dark green eyes darted around the room in curious anxiety, was taken in by Tiernan of haMinch, Lord Padraig's pensive-looking son. Shy-looking Idren of Disart recieved kind-eyed Adair of Legann as a sponsor, while Adair's grinning twin Blair chose to sponsor Rhysten of Nond, who was the only page not looking even vaguely nervous.

Slowly the pages and their sponsors dispersed to spend their before-dinner time touring the castle. Roderick shook his head after the four new pages and their sponsors. "Those'll fit each other like a glove, all four of 'em. I s'pose that's why each sponsor chose who they did, anyway..." He turned to study Meg thoughtfully. "So what d'you go by?"

His question threw her off guard. "What makes you think I go by anything?" she replied defensively, her tongue getting ahead of her.

Roderick raised an eyebrow; Meg instantly regretted her forward speech. However, his tone was amused when he spoke again. "Lots of people have nicknames. Like me, for example. Only those with a death wish call me Roderick – it's Rick. Megenne is a bit cumbersome of a name to drag around, don't you think?"

Meg did agree, but something in her wanted to be ornery, and she sprung to the defense of the name she hated. "Is there something wrong with my name?"

Rick held up both hands in surrender. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's a beautiful name. Feisty little thing, aren't you? You have a nickname, don't you?"

Meg sighed. "Yes, I do. It's Meg...please."

"All right then, Meg please," Rick said brightly, "let's begin your tour of the castle, shall we?" He started off down a hallway, then stopped when he realized Meg wasn't with him. "What is it now, little one?"

Meg would have resented this – he didn't look more than a year older than her – had he not been a head taller and more muscled. "I...I just..." she began, then cleared her throat. "You're...I mean...family...wondering...Cavall," she finally managed, looking completely flustered. "I can't figure out how to say this without sounding disrespectful," she added in one soft breath.

She heard a soft chuckle, and looked up to see Rick smiling. "Don't worry about sounding disrespectful," he said in a friendly tone. "I may be of Cavall, but I'm not that much older than you. Yes, I'm Lord Wyldon's son."

Meg wrinkled her nose. "But...conservative...you..."

Rick shrugged. "My dad was stiff as a boulder, and as likely to change," he said in a tone laden with insubordination. "It doesn't run in the family, thank Mithros. I think women can do great things. Look at Lady Alanna and Lady Keladry. You'll become just like them if you try hard enough."

Meg flushed darkly, looked down, and shook her head vehemently. She suddenly felt herself being towed by a strong arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, King's Reach." Rick's tone was overly bright, laden with futuristic vision. "We've got a long evening ahead of us. The palace is a big place, and you've got a great tour guide." He didn't bother to sound modest.

Meg let him tow her for a while, listening to him talk and feeling an odd mixture of emotions. Apprehension, certainly...the palace was indeed a bit place, and she was worried sick about her prospects as a page. Obviously, not all of the pages would be friendly. Rick seemed flighty...eager to try things, talk endlessly, crack pointless jokes. He seemed overly energetic, the type who didn't care what others thought or expected of him, severely lacking in modesty and propriety, and possibly even a little crazy.

To her horror, Meg found herself liking him already.


	5. The Affair of the Mess Hall

**A/N: **::jawdrop:: My gosh...23 reviews?! That makes this my most reviewed story! Yay! Thank you all...so much...::sniffs happily::

To everyone who noticed the similarities between Rick and Neal: embarrassed look I absolutely adore Neal...he's one of my favourite TP charries of all time. It's SO hard not to bring him into Rick...but I promise I'll do my very best to give Rick something of his very own. Let me know if he becomes too Neal-like, OK? ;D

emikae: Heehee...I know...it's crazy...SO glad there's no more school!! Glad to hear you're enjoying it grin  
**Rubber Duck: **Yeah, Meg's story'll be gift-centric...but I'm working on adding something else in the mix too...and Dom might very possibly be making an appearance in this fic :D If not, look for him in a future TP fic of mine.  
**miamouse: **Really? I'm honoured =)  
**Fyli: **grin Good to hear. Just wait until I start introducing all the guys...I'll do my best to keep them distinct, but I have a feeling they might get confusing...XD  
**ShadowWyvern: **Thanks!! :D I'll do my best to extend the chapters...this one should be longer than the previous =) ROFL, you like my vocabulary? That's the first time I've gotten THAT compliment...well, in that case, here's a new word for you – esoteric. It's pronounced eh-SAW-teh-rick, and it means "known by very few people". So there you have it ;D  
**Steph Silverstar, Lizai, elfin2, WhiteTiger-82087, Mage-Magic17: **Thanks to all of you! I appreciate even the shortest of reviews oh-so-very much. =D

Now that I've wasted half a page replying to reviews...::sheepish grin::...wow, I've definitely not updated for almost three weeks. O.O SO sorry, guys!! First my AP World History project was taking up all my time, then final exams started, and it's just been one thing after another. sigh Well, thankfully it's all over now...so I'll do my best to update a lot :D Here goes!

I'm very sorry if this chapter seems odd. The timing and content turned out totally different than I planned, and I finished it late at night/early in the morning, so it might be muddled. Apologies

Disclaimer: I still don't own Tortall or Lord Padraig. I still own all of the pages. XD

Chapter Four: The Affair of the Mess Hall

Meg followed Rick into the mess hall a bit nervously; her anxiety was only increased when she noted the size of it. It seemed to be completely filled with boys of all shapes, sizes, colours, and personalities. Some ate in silence, some talked, some laughed boisterously. She froze in place, open worry dancing across her face.

Rick halted a few steps away when he noticed she'd frozen. He turned around, exasperated; the look quickly melted away into one of gentle sympathy when he noticed the scared look on Meg's face. "Come on," he said with a smile, tugging on her arm. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Shyly, Meg peeked around at the massive amount of boys; shuddering, she could barely bring herself to follow Rick. "_Trust _me," he said cheerfully, piling her plate – as well as his own – with food. "It's not bad at all."

"Easy for you to say," Meg whispered, following her sponsor like a shadow. "You're not a girl."

Rick stopped where he was, blinked, and turned to face Meg thoughtfully. The pages in line protested loudly, but he remained where he was, a pensive expression on his face.

"You're right," he finally concluded, after far too long of a pause. "I'm not. But that brings to mind very interesting images. C'mon, I'll introduce you to everyone." He tugged her arm towards a very full table. Meg noticed nearly all of the first-year pages and their sponsors – excluding the sour-faced Astor and Regan – sitting there, laughing boisterously and play-fighting. The older pages seemed to have a tight network of friends; the younger ones were starting to talk to each other, slowly getting more and more comfortable.

Meg stopped where she was, causing Rick to stumble. The pages behind Meg began to protest again, but she fixed pale blue eyes firmly on her sponsor. "I can't sit there," she attempted to say strongly, but her voice trembled and her gaze wavered as she spoke.

Rick, looking exasperated, ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. "That's ridicu – " he began, then stopped and broke off, an entirely different expression on his face. He took her elbow and steered her towards a small, empty table. "You know, I can see why the boys might be a bit overwhelming at first," he confided as he sat down. "We're a crazy bunch." He grinned again.

If Rick was any indication, Meg thought as she sat across from him, they certainly were a crazy bunch. She didn't voice this thought, though, and Rick went on. "I don't mind staying with you a while, though, until you get used to everyone – to analyze you, make sure you're worthy of our gang." He winked at her cheerfully; she found herself giving a small smile in reply. "I hope you won't mind me at least explaining to them why I'm not there, though."

The request was reasonable, and Meg appreciated that he'd asked first. She pretended to think about it, then nodded.

Rick saluted her cheerfully and bounced over the the next table. Yes, Meg noted with amusion, he actually _bounced. _She'd never met anyone with enough energy to bounce as they moved before. Then again, she'd never met anyone quite as overwhelmingly energetic as Rick; he'd talked quickly and animatedly almost all the way down to the mess hall. To a shy girl like Meg, he was absolutely terrifying – yet at the same time, someone new and someone exciting. It surprised her that he seemed to care what happened to her, even though they were so different. And she, who was an excellent judge of human character, liked him.

As Rick approached the table, Meg heard murmurs of conversation. Curiously, she placed her finger to her ear to magnify her hearing range; idly she wondered when she'd lost all respect for privacy. She'd tried the trick at home a few times, but Elris had caught her...perhaps exposure to the palace and Rick at the same time, as well as the absence of her father, were emboldening her.

"So the great Roderick thinks that now that he's associating with _ladies, _he's too good for our little crew?" teased a light, easy tenor voice; Meg probed it and was rewarded with the knowledge that it belonged to Tiernan, the training master's son.

"Is it me who's too good or you who's too far below me?" Rick retorted.

Tiernan laughed. "I'm kidding, Rick. I think it's great that you're taking her in. She's sure to receive some bad treatment around here."

"Well, of course she is!" someone put in, speaking quickly and bluntly. There was sudden silence at the table; Meg peeked to see all the boys staring at the first-year she recognized as Rhysten of Nond.

The boy blushed, but continued hotly. "Well...just _look _at her. She's..._strange_."

Instantly almost every head turned to look at Meg, who quickly glanced away. She felt the heat rise to her own face and had to struggle to fight tears. Did they really think her strange?

The next voice that spoke was quiet; Adair of Legann's. "Of course she's strange. Have you sensed her Gift? But some of the nicest people are powerful mages. Master Numair, for one...she seems sweet." Meg felt the colour slowly leave her face; she was intensely grateful to Adair.

"Thank you." Rick sounded mollified. "She is. I like her."

"I am still unclear," drawled a voice similar to Adair's – it must have been Blair, his brother – "as to why exactly you chose to sponsor her. Could it be you're interested in showing her more than just the palace?"

There was a smack, a crash, and a yelp loud enough to be heard by almost everyone in the mess hall. The room abruptly went quiet as everyone whirled to see what had happened, Meg included. She gasped; Rick was on his feet, his hand lowered from a strike and clenched in a fist. Blair was on the floor next to his tray (its fall had made the clatter), his hand on his cheek. He was staring at Rick incredulously; the other boy regarded him with a cold, fierce eye.

The pages instantly began to chatter quietly, nervously; a hush descended onto them as Lord Padraig stormed through the aisles to stand before the table.

For a long time there was silence. Meg was unable to tear her eyes away from the scene, as were most of the pages in the mess hall. The air practically crackled with tensior. Finally, Lord Padraig spoke.

"_What_," he said slowly, "in the name of Mithros _happened_ here?" His tone was heard by all; it was cold as ice and hard as steel, not loud but still carrying a tone of power and authority through the mess hall. And anger – oh yes, he was angry. Meg shrank back in fear.

"He _hit _me!" Blair yelped, looking stunned as he stared up at Rick.

"Thank you, master of the obvious," Adair muttered, pulling his brother back onto his chair. Meg noticed the similarities between the two – they were practically identical, only Adair's mahogany eyes were lighter and Blair's messy blond hair was longer.

Padraig whirled onto Rick; his icy fury sent the boy a step back, but he met the training master's eyes, chin trembling. "Is this true, Cavall? Did you strike another page unprovoked?"

There was a pause. Then, "...No, sir," Rick replied, his voice strong although his frame was shaking. The defiance was costing him, but he was obviously planning to carry through with it.

"No?" Lord Padraig's tone was grating. Meg had only heard such a tone laden with sarcastic displeasure a few times before, from her father. "So you mean to tell me you did _not _hit Blair?"

"No, sir, that's not what I said," Rick replied in a lighter tone, his fists clenching and unclenching. His body wasn't shaking anymore and his voice was easier, though still just barely polite. "I did hit him, but it wasn't unprovoked. He insulted my honour."

Lord Padraig looked as though he wanted to hit Rick himself. Meg didn't blame him; she was having the same urges. How could he be so subordinate? The training master readied himself to reply, then thought better of it and sighed deeply. In a low, furious tone, he growled, "See me after dinner." He stalked off, leaving silence in his wake.

Once Padraig left, the silence slowly filled in until the volume had risen to the level it was before, the incident forgotten. Meg watched as the twins talked quietly and everyone else returned to their regular conversation, leaving Rick to saunter back over to Meg's table.

He sat down, pretending nothing had happened, and promptly began to eat. Meg raised an eyebrow at him; he didn't seem to notice. Shrugging it off, she too dug in and they ate in silence.

However, after a few minutes the silence became deafening. Unable to bear it any longer, Meg put her fork down and glared at Rick.

After a while, he noticed her glare. "...Yes?" he asked through a mouthful of veal, gesturing with his fork.

"What," Meg asked crossly, "_possessed _you to hit Blair like that?"

Rick looked a bit disappointed – or annoyed, perhaps, or maybe even chagrined – at the question, and he continued to eat. "You heard me, didn't you?" he muttered. "He insulted my – "

"Honour," Meg finished, annoyed, "if you _have _any. But his comment wasn't all that...offensive. Not to you, anyway."

Rick actually put his fork down to stare at Meg. Colour tinted his cheeks. "...You heard it?" he asked quietly, guiltily. At Meg's nod, he bit his lip and sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. "It _was _offensive. I'm not the kind of person who'd take advantage of a girl...Mithros, I'm _twelve. _It's far too early to be thinking about...that sort of thing."

Meg noted, with absurd pleasure, that Rick was thoroughly flustered now. Having grown up without a mother, she had learned about these sorts of things late in life; her learning had come from the servants at King's Reach, who knew more about the realities of sex than most nobles. Thus, she was well educated in the ways that talk could bring a reputation down. "It was my reputation insulted, though, not yours. Why take it upon yourself to defend me?"

Rick looked even more flustered, and then his entire expression changed. "You've some fire in you after all. Mithros, I was beginning to think you were hopeless." Before Meg could reply indignantly, he continued in a thoughtful tone. "It was my reputation as much as yours, my dear girl. However, had it been only yours, I would have jumped to your defense anyway. I know how talk can hurt...my sister was near ruined by Court gossips a few years back." His eyes darkened; Meg was stunned to see the boy behind the cheerful, energetic mask. "Plus, Blair's a jerk," he added.

Meg blinked. "But you're friends, aren't you?"

"Oh, of course, I'll apologize tomorrow and so will he. You can't not fight with Blair, everyone's done it at least once. He's bubbly, open, cheerful, outgoing, and friendly, but he's a jerk. Anyway, Lord Padraig was just dying for another excuse to pick on me. All I did was give him ammunition."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "He was?"

Rick shrugged cheerfully, grabbing a roll off Meg's plate. "He always is. He hates me. He's hated me since I broke his son's arm my second week of training."

Meg's jaw dropped. "You _what?!" _she yelped. "How did you – when did – why – you – "

Rick chuckled, looking amused. "Again with the slurs on my reputation. Tiernan was bothering me about it, asking me about my sister, so I tackled him and broke his arm. Lord Padraig was furious and ordered me to apologize, but I refused to." Meg looked ready to start spluttering again, but Rick continued before she had a chance. "Tiernan understands now, of course...he apologized to me later, he said he was just testing me, and we're the best of friends now. But Padraig's never forgiven me." He stole Meg's other roll and continued eating.

Meg stared at him for a long time, until he started staring back. "What?" he demanded.

"There is considerably more to you than meets the eye, Cavall," she proclaimed, trying to keep a straight face.

The concept of straight faces was entirely lost on Rick. "And there is considerably more to you than meets the eye as well, m'dear King's Reach." He took his goblet in hand and raised it. "A toast, to there being more than meets the eye."

Giggling, Meg followed suit.


	6. Training Lessons

A/N: Not nearly as many reviews this time...perhaps I should become one of those psycho authors who only updates after a certain number of reviews. =P Nah, don't worry, I wouldn't do that to you guys. ;D

Rubber Duck: Thanks! Well, this isn't "soon" exactly, but it's less than a week later...I do get props for that, right? Right? ::silence::  
**Miamouse: **Heehee...it is, but for different reasons...Romance, hmmm, to be honest I have absolutely no idea at this point what'll happen, romance-wise. We'll have to see ::giggles:: Meg'll probably get her first hint of romance sometime between second and third year of pagehood...and as for sequels, I'm thinking of doing it in the same style as PotS, with her first year, then the rest of her page years, then her squire years, then her knight years. Think that'll work?  
**Fyli: **::giggles:: Glad to see you like Rick, I personally adore him 3 And here ya go, just one day late...;D  
**Elfin2: **Isn't it? ::grin::  
**Emikae: **Thanks muchly! =)

OK, this update'll be kinda odd...I based it on Kel's first day, but I didn't want to include all the teacher speeches, so I kinda breezed through 'em...sorry if it makes it seem incoherent ::apologetic grin:: And more Rick-y goodness!! Yay!! ::giggle:: This chapter's kinda long...and ends oddly...sorry guys!

Randomness: I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about horses, so feel free to correct me if I get something wrong, okay? And Meg's horse's name is as close to the Japanese as I could make it. ::sheepish grin::

Disclaimer: I still don't own Tortall, or Lord Padraig. I still do own Meg, Rick, Adair, Idren, Tiernan, and all the other pages. Yay for me and mah boys! ::huggles them::

:: Chapter Five: Training Lessons ::

Meg spent the rest of the night being shown about the castle by Rick. He showed her salons, libraries, official chambers, and the portrait gallery. Halfway through the tour, they were joined by Adair of Legann. The soft-spoken boy apologized to Rick for what his brother had said, then reproached him for replying with physical harm. "But between you and me," he added conspiratorially, "it's about time someone did." He introduced himself shyly to Meg, who instantly took a liking to him

Adair accompanied them for the rest of the tour; Meg felt incredibly priviledged to be introduced to the castle by two young men who'd lived at Court most of their lives. Adair had a quiet, scholarly air about him and he obviously knew a lot about every place they visited. Rick's dry comments and unique stories added humour and fire to every room. Meg found herself relaxing in their company and went to bed happy; for the first time since she could remember, she didn't cry herself to sleep.

::::::

Two days later, Meg nervously adjusted her new uniform in the practice courts as Hakuin Seastone talked. Faleron had told her about him; she was relieved to find that both the Shang Horse and the Shang Wildcat still worked there. Meg stayed close to Rick; however, the groups were soon split up into first years and everyone else. Meg glanced apprehensively at her sponsor, who gave her a reassuring wink.

Nervously, she went to stand with the other first-years. Astor of Rosemark shot her a calculating, hate-filled look that made her tremble and edge away from him. She tried to turn her attention to Hakuin, who was demonstrating how to fall.

One by one, the pages tried it themselves. Meg realized that she could tell something about them by way they fell. Astor, for example, executed the slap and roll falling motion almost perfectly, with a very smug air. Donegal of Veldine, Idren of Disart, and Rhysten of Nond all made mistakes, but Meg discovered that it was amusing to watch how each took to his scolding. Donegal forgot what he was supposed to do halfway through; he grinned sheepishly when Hakuin lectured him. Idren executed it too slowly; he turned scarlet and ducked his head upon receiving his lecture. Rhysten, on the other hand, was too quick, and took his lecture with graceful optimism ("Don't worry, I'll get it next time!").

Finally, it was Meg's turn. She realized, apprehensively, that Rick and Adair had halted their drill to watch her. With an effort, she convinced herself to ignore both their eyes and the eyes of her fellow first-years. She ran through the motions she'd seen Hakuin do - slap the ground and roll - and grabbed his hand.

When Meg hit the ground, it felt as though every bone in her body was straining with the effort not to break. True, she had had injuries before, but Meg wasn't an overly active girl; eleven years spent almost entirely inside, with no weapons training or physical exertion (Elris had considered it unladylike) had made her extremely easy to bruise. However, she did remember to slap her arms down to lessen the impact, and instantly rolled and got to her feet. Her entire body protested the motion and it took an obvious effort for Meg not to show her pain.

Hakuin gave her a smile. "Very good. You're Faleron's sister, aren't you?" Startled, Meg nodded, and Hakuin grinned. "You two are very much alike. He was always good at this particular move." It was the right thing to say; Hakuin addressed all the pages in explanation of other moves as Meg beamed with pride at the compliment to her brother.

"So, how'd it go?" Rick inquired as the pages migrated, at the bell, to another part of the courts.

Meg glared at him; she was abjectly grateful to know Rick and to be able to glare at him. She was beginning to realize that not only would it not offend him, but that it was the only way to manage him. "My body is one big bruise," she retorted, sore from head to toe. It was an effort just to walk.

"If I didn't feel similarly, I'd carry you," Rick offered sweetly; Meg glared at him again. "You'll get used to it soon enough. If it gets too bad, I'll take you to a healer."

"No," Meg said quickly, as they entered the next court. "Pain builds character."

Rick looked at her oddly. "Who told you _that?"_

"My father," she retorted; Rick went quiet; Sergeant Obafem Ezeko introduced himself and explained the staff drills they were to be doing. He selected Kendrick of Linden and Tiernan haMinch to demonstrate the drill. Meg watched them; both boys were tall and slim, so they were evenly matched. Kendrick moved fluidly, as if the moves came naturally, but he put a bit too much force into his attacks and blocks. Tiernan's were less smooth, but they were powerful without being too forceful. Meg noted some of the first-years staring at his movements with envy; Lord Padraig looked proud.

Ezeko handed out staffs and made the boys and Meg practice each movement. She liked the feel and weight of the staff in her hand, and found that the movements came easily to her. Despite her bruised body, she was lithe and flexible, and she soon was able to perform all of the movements close to perfectly.

"Pair off! Two lines! Right strikes, left blocks! First years with first years!" Ezeko bellowed, and Meg scurried into line. She found herself facing Idren; the boy's hazel eyes were uncertain as he looked at her. She hesitated, then gave him a small, shy smile. After an even longer hesitation, he returned it.

Ezeko and Lord Padraig went up and down the row, checking the pages' stances and grips. She noted that Padraig spent an extraordinarily long time perfecting Rick's grip. When he reached her, he moved her hand further apart and gave her a reassuring grin; Ezeko grumbled about Idren's weak grip and loose stance. "To my count!" he yelled, making Idren wince. "High! Middle! Low!"

Meg and Idren's staffs clacked together, and she found she couldn't pay attention to anything anyone else was saying. She was intensely focused on the drill, on the ache of her sore, bruised muscles as she shifted into blocks for Idren's strikes. Every move took more concentration than anything she'd done before; however, as she got into the rhythm, she noticed that there was an anatomy to them. It was something like talking to her father...she had to take into account his mood, what could affect it, if he'd been drinking...her tone had to be perfectly crafted to appeal to him. The blocks had layers too...her stance had to be solid but flexible, her grip firm but mobile, her strength behind the block just enough. She and Idren settled into a rhythm; Meg was surprised to find them almost perfectly matched. He was taller and just slightly heavier than she was, while she was quicker and more flexible.

"Switch off! High! Middle! Low!" Ezeko called, and they did, Meg striking. This was harder; she found she couldn't put very much force into the attacks. She simply didn't have the strength in her. Idren tried to hold back on his blocks, shooting her a sympathetic glance. Meg smiled at him thankfully, continuing to try and make the strikes as strong as she possibly could.

Ezeko soon announced combinations, and told them to switch partners. Confused, Meg stayed where she was and found herself facing Tiernan. He gave her a faint smile as they settled into the drill. Tiernan was about the same height as Idren, but broader as he was older. His strikes had more force behind them, though it was obvious he was holding back for Meg, so that she could catch up and get used to his blows. She was ferociously grateful to have such a good partner; by the time they'd finished, Tiernan had worked up to almost full power and Meg felt stronger already. When it was time to switch partners again, he clapped her shoulder warmly and winked at her before moving on.

After more staffwork (Meg was lucky enough to get Rick and Adair as partners), the pages moved on to archery. This delighted Meg, who'd shown a talent at the games of darts Faleron had shown her when she was young. Archery was what interested her most.

The archery master, however, didn't show them how to grip their bows; Meg, therefore, was flustered, not knowing how to string the arrow properly. She glanced around, helpless; Adair was on one side of her, and a tall brown-haired boy she didn't know on the other. Meg looked at Adair, who strung the bow smoothly and let loose a perfect arrow. He glanced at the girl; his next arrow came onto the string slowly, his movements exaggerated. Meg realized what he was doing, and copied him, shifting her grip until it mirrored his own. He gave her a subtle nod; she was about to let loose when she glanced at the other boy. He was about to loose his arrow.

"Your aim's off," Meg muttered without thinking.

He looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"It'll go too high," Meg replied, unsure of how she knew this. It just felt _wrong _the way it was. "Lower it." Raising an eyebrow at her, he did. "Lower."

"It'll go too low," he protested.

"No, it won't." He lowered it more, rolling his eyes, until the wrong feeling left. "That's good. Let it go now." Looking exasperated, the boy did; the arrow flew straight and true, hitting the edge of the bull's-eye.

"A bit off," Meg said airily, her attention back to her own target. "You'll get it next time."

The boy was staring at her in disbelief. "_How," _he demanded, "did you know that?"

Meg shrugged, a bit uncomfortable, and loosed her arrow. It struck the bull's-eye dead center while the boy watched, open-mouthed.

As the archery session went on, Meg realized that she could sense where the arrow should go by using a simple little trickle of her Gift. It was what would give her the chord of comfort and rightness when the arrow was center. Almost all of her arrows were within three inches of the center of the target. The brown-haired boy next to her got scolded a number of times because he was staring at Meg like she was the Wave Walker.

Near the end of the archery session Rick, who was on the other side of the brown-haired boy, hissed, "_Will!_" The boy turned. "We're almost done. Next the first-years will be choosing horses."

Will raised an eyebrow, aimed his bow, and fired - the arrow nearly decapitated Blair. "Sorry!" he called sheepishly, then turned back to Rick. "So what?"

"Well..." Rick lowered his voice further. "You know that Regan and his crew make life miserable for the first-years they...don't take a liking to. And...well...I know from the way Regan looked at her that he wouldn't like Meg. Hence, he and his cronies will make sure she gets a bad horse."

Will nodded slowly. "I'm following this...go on."

Rick lowered his voice more still; it took on a conspiratorial tone. "Well...what say you and I...and maybe Dair and Tier...make it so that they _can't, _and get Meg a nice horse?" He suddenly stopped, looking anxious. "You _do _like her, don't you, Will?"

Will glanced at the dark-haired girl next to him, who was biting her lip in concentration. "Yeah, I do," he said softly. "She reminds me of the twins. Only less evil. You going to take her to meet Ria, or will I?"

"_Later, _Will," Rick chided in annoyance. "That's not the issue here. The issue is...we'll create a diversion. Then, Tier and Dair - if they agree - "

"Which they might not," Will put in dryly. "Dair especially. He hates your silly hare-brained schemes."

"Will you _listen?" _Rick demanded. "As I was saying, Tier and Dair will escort her - subtly, of course - close to the stables, and then our wonderful horse master Dair will aid her in choosing one." His chocolate-coloured eyes glimmered. "It's fool-proof!"

Will raised an eyebrow, familiar by now with Rick's "fool-proof" plans. "You're worse than my crazy brother, and that's saying something," he proclaimed; Rick looked appropriately pleased. "How exactly do you propose we 'distract' Regan and them?"

Rick gave an evil grin; Will shivered apprehensively. "Blair!" Rick hissed to the boy next to him. "How many of those arrows are you going to be using?"

::::::

When the bell rang for the end of the session, Lord Padraig yelled, "Riding!" Meg turned to put down her bow; Rick winked at Will, who groaned and muttered, "I can't believe I'm doing this." Gleann of Darroch, Kendrick, and Regan had all gathered in a circle, glaring nastily at Meg, and getting ready to run towards the stables.

"You were _right," _Will whispered to Rick in horror.

"Less talk, more _action," _Rick hissed in return. Both boys aimed their bows; in full view of the training master, they aimed a barrage of arrows at Regan, Kendrick, and Gleann.

The effect was immediate and explosive - literally. Whenever the arrows hit the ground, they burst in blasts of emerald, black-flecked light. Regan, Kendrick, and Gleann threw themselves to the ground, yelling and yelping. Lord Padraig and the archery master ran over to where Rick and Will were standing and instantly began to yell angrily at them.

Meg stared with open mouth at the scene before her; the first-years looked beyond stunned, the second and third years furious, and the fourth-years resigned. Suddenly, she felt her arms being grabbed; Tiernan and Adair were dragging her, slowly and subtly, closer to the stables. "What - " she began, confused.

"Don't ask," Tiernan grumbled, looking annoyed. "It was Rick's idea. Regan and his gang were planning to stop you from getting a good horse. Apparently, getting flayed by Father is his idea of a decent distraction."

"He and Will are brainless dolts," Adair supplied, but there was no venom in his voice. "But they're good-hearted brainless dolts. Which doesn't entirely make up for it...but still." He grinned faintly at Meg. "I'm to make sure you get a good horse. Tiernan's to calm his father." He looked at the other boy pointedly; Tiernan smiled at Meg and went to do so.

Lord Padraig looked up as he saw his son approach. "First-years! Go pick out your mounts, quickly!"

"Now," Adair muttered, tugging Meg's arm and glancing over to where Regan was shooing Astor. He pulled Meg over to the stables; the girl followed, noting with pride that they were the first ones there.

"I actually had an idea for you..." Adair confessed as he led Meg to a stall. "I wanted you to see him first, but decide quickly, the others will be coming soon..." He gestured to the horse inside and Meg gasped. Inside was a gorgeous gelding, about 15 hands tall, surveying his surroundings with a calm eye. His ears twitched; he was a mottled light brown and white colour. He had white stockings and a short, dark mane, as well as a long, dark tail. He nudged Adair's chest affectionately when the boy approached him, then turned a curious eye to Meg.

"He's beautiful," Meg whispered in awe.

"You think so?" Adair looked pleased. "A Yamani nobleman was returning to the Isles this summer, so he returned him...his name's Karameushi-Uma. Apparently his owner had a sense of humour." Meg raised an eyebrow; Adair explained, "It means 'cow-coloured horse'."

Meg blinked, then looked at Karameushi-Uma. Now that she noted it, his mottling did look an awful lot like a cow's. She giggled. "I think I'll call him Ram for short."

Adair smiled at her. "Better saddle him up quick, though...Lord Padraig's looking restless. I'll go." He waved at her, then went to saddle up his own horse.

Meg approached Ram slowly, holding out her hand for him to smell. He leaned over and checked it; disappointed to find no proffered treat, he lipped her palm in affection anyway. Meg looked up into the horse's dark eyes and saw trust and affection.

She was sure it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


	7. Thoughts

A/N: 35 reviews!! ::squee:: Way to make me feel loved, guys :D

Fyli: Heehee, thankees...I love it too, it took ages to think up XD  
**emikae: **::grin:: Any and all ideas are appreciated at this point, LOL...I've got big plans for ickle Meg's gift...::evil cackle::  
**miamouse: **::wince:: Yeah, I'm sorry about that...I have absolutely no idea how a page's first day is supposed to go, so I lifted heavily from the Kel books...hopefully, I won't have to do that again. Thanks for pointing it out, hehe, I'll try to stear clear of this strategy ::sheepish grin::  
**Rubber Duck: **Not at all, I appreciate the constructive criticism. I know it's going a bit too easily...she's gonna be really sore later, though, LOL...but after a few weeks, when she slips into routine, she'll be surprised at the things some of the boys have in store...::thunder crashes ominously:: Anyway, I'm struggling not to make Meg a Mary Sue...her weaknesses will definitely show in future chapters. Thanks for the help, lemme know if I start slipping again ;D  
**blackflyer: **I'm honoured that people keep comparing me to the great Tammy! ::blush:: Thanks a lot =D  
**Lizai: **ROFL, Rick is a bit of a dolt, isn't he? ::giggles:: That's why I love him so much...and thank you so much! I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. XD  
**elfin2: **Indeed, the boys are sweet, aren't they? ::huggles them:: Thanks!

So, here goes...this chapter's kinda slow, kinda boring, and much shorter than the previous ones...::apologetic grin:: I promise the next one'll be worth it, though, so skim this one at least ; I'll try to get the next one up ASAP...

Disclaimer: As usual, Lord Padraig ain't mine...neither is the palace, nor Tortall...howe'er, Meg and the boys are mine...as is my beloved Rick. ::giggle::

:: Chapter Six: Thoughts ::

Riding didn't come as easily to Meg as she had hoped. She'd gotten riding lessons at home, of course, but riding Ram proved to be a lot more difficult than riding the mares and ponies at home. He seemed to like her, but he proved contrary and tempermental, living up to the stubborn animal she'd nicknamed him for. Also, he was slightly oversize, and she was more than slightly undersized, which made for an uncomfortable difference. By the end of the riding lessons, Meg had fallen off of Ram five times, each time catching herself just a little too late and thus accumulating bruises all over her body.

"I hate horses," Meg grumbled to Rick when he showed up at Ram's stall to escort her back to the palace. "I hate those stupid animals. I wish Tortall had never heard of such an animal."

"It's good to see you alive and well," Rick replied jauntily. "We're off to lunch, and then to afternoon classes."

Meh groaned, leaning against her friend. "The day's only half over? Mithros, I feel like I've been pummeled by an army...first the falling, then the exhaustion of staff fighting, then falling off Ram..."

"I thought you liked Ram," Rick said mildly. "Adair said you two got along quite well."

Meg was too tired to think of the oddity in discussing her relationship with her horse in human terms. "We do...he's just ornery. I think he's trying to test me before he finds out if he likes me or not. Besides, he's big and I'm small. And I'm clumsy, and I was tired and sore..." She suddenly stopped, blushing. "I'm complaining. I should stop."

Rick clapped her shoulder, making her wince. "If you think this is bad, wait 'til you wake up tomorrow. Go wash up, I'll meet you in the mess hall." He walked off, leaving Meg with his cheerful words of wisdom. 

::::::

That night, Meg lay awake, unable to sleep. She went through the day's events, from the bruises she'd gotten from falling to the intense physical effort it had taken to strike with a staff, to the falls she'd taken from Ram. It didn't help that she still felt the bruises of eleven years' abuse from her father; Elris had left lasting scars and bruises while refusing to allow Meg to see a healer. It was part of what had made her so frail, part of what had made her feel today's bruises so strongly. She knew that she wasn't under her father's control, but she still couldn't shake her feeling of self-sufficiency. She had to prove that she could put up with page training, despite her affinity for archery and her liking of staff fighting.

Yes, Meg did still feel all of her bruises from the day, but she also felt the mental exertion that her afternoon classes had taken on her. She'd barely been able to concentrate, being so bruised, but she'd muddled through it. Reading and writing hadn't been too hard - as a noble's daughter, those were skills she'd had to learn - but mathematics had been something of a struggle. Faleron had taught Meg bits of accounting so that she could manage King's Reach in his absence when they both grew older, but the figures were hard for Meg to work - she was sweet but not a quick thinker. She had struggled long and hard into the night with the homework problems, willing them to make sense before they had finally worked out.

History and law of the realm with Sir Myles of Olau fascinated Meg; she'd been surprised when Myles had let her know what a good student her brother had been, and jokingly added that he expected great things from her. She'd blushed and scurried away. Lindhall Reed, their teacher of plants and animals, had been a nice man, and the subject was an interesting one for Meg, since it didn't require prior knowledge or over-average intelligence. The final class, etiquette, hadn't been a problem either - the only trouble Meg had was not falling asleep due to her exhaustion.

The one class Meg hadn't looked forward to was magecraft; using trickles of her Gift to help her aim, eavesdrop, and the like was a usual occurance, nothing to worry about. But learning other things to do with her Gift...that scared her. She didn't want to do great things, as she'd told Faleron, didn't want the Gift that she knew was part of her exposed. If she ignored it, perhaps it would go away and she wouldn't have to deal with all the things that came with being a mage. She'd feigned a stomachache and had gone to her room for the whole class period. She knew she couldn't hide from the class, nor from Master Salmalín forever, but she could try, and try she damn well would.

Regardless of the physical and mental effort of her first day, though, Meg was content. She knew she'd tried her best in most everything; she'd been surprised at the difficulty, yes, but more so by the fact that it was _fun. _She enjoyed all of it more than she'd hoped to, which was wonderful. She'd never felt so free in her entire life - for the first time, there was no shadow of her father flickering over her shoulder.

When Meg finally slept, her final thoughts were those of peace, happiness, and finally finding a place where she belonged.

::::::

Two weeks later that Meg caused her very first storm at court; it was the day Sir Elris of King's Reach arrived at the palace to take his daughter home.


	8. Uproar at Court

A/N: I'm almost up to 50 reviews O.O I never IMAGINED this story would be so popular!! ::gives all reviewers chocolate and cardboard Rick cutouts:: XD

miamouse: Yeah, that one'll probably be my shortest chapter...::giggle:: Some of your ideas may come through...she's definitely meeting Kel...and of course you can use it, I'm not claiming royalties to the idea or anything. ::grin:: Thanks!  
**emikae: **Well, you'll see in this chapter ::evil laugh:: Thanks!  
**Fylz: **::giggle::  
**calemra: **Whatever gave you _that _idea? ::innocent look::  
**Mage-Magic17: **So sorry about that...glad you like it, though :D  
**elfin2: **Glad to hear it. Hope you like this one, it was really fun to write...  
**pinky: **I'm working to remedy the Mary Sue-age...haha, Sue-age, like sewage...::giggle:: Right, anyway...yes, he is a jerk, I wanted to smack him so hard this chapter 'round. Hope you like it!  
**Rubber Duck: **Yay, no CC stuff! ::cheer:: Glad you like it, thanks!  
**blackflyer: **Yeah, poor Meg...::pats her:: I'm trying to make her likeable, but not exactly strong at the same time...let me know if I succeed ::grin::  
**Lizai: **Here y'are ::sheepish grin::  
**Ashlynn: **::giggle:: Yes ma'am, I'll do my best...

I'm SO sorry this chapter took so long...I've been grounded, which means I sneak on for about half an hour each day. I'm terribly sorry, guys, this means I really won't be good about updating...::sighs:: This chapter should sustain you for a while though ::grin:: MUCH THANKS (and extra Rick cutouts ::giggle::) for my Numair authority, Fyli...without her, you would never be able to picture Numy perfectly! Bwahaha! ::calms down::

Anyway...yup, here y'are, Chapter Seven! :D

:: Chapter Seven: Uproar at Court ::

It was the end of Meg's second week of page training; the pages were at dinner, causing mayhem and tumult and all the usual disturbance. Meg had still not gotten used enough to the other boys to sit with them, so she sat with Rick, answering his onslaught of questions with short, few-word replies. After two weeks, Meg still couldn't figure out how exactly that dratted boy managed to stay so cheerful and talkative after a day's hard training.

The two weeks of training hadn't made Meg tougher; if anything, she was even more exhausted. She'd never experienced such intense physical pain and exertion before in her life. Every day, Shang fighting bruised her, staff fighting tested the limits of her strength, archery left her wary of her magic, and riding left her sore. Academic classes left her going to bed with an exhausted brain.

And still, after two weeks, Meg hadn't attended a single magic class. Her excuses differed every day; she sometimes, timidly, tapped into her Gift to give herself an indisputed "illness". In the second week, Salma had continually given Meg a stern look whenever she crept into her room; a few days ago, she'd said, "You know, you can't run from it forever." Meg had ignored it; she _knew _she couldn't run from her Gift forever. She couldn't even say what it was, exactly, that made her run from it. Being a mage wasn't a bad thing...it just made her uneasy, even using her magic for little things. It made her feel as though she was cheating, using an unfair advantage. She wanted to be just like everyone else.

Still, even without her magic classes, Meg was exhausted. Her frail, delicate frame was collapsing under the amount of bruises and batterings it was recieving. Still, no matter how stiff or sore Meg woke up, she refused to see a healer; the pain would make her stronger, she firmly believed. The fact that it hadn't so far meant nothing.

Despite the physical pain and mental strain, however, Meg was happier than she'd been. Her entire life, her only companions had been her mare, her father, and her servants; her only friend, the only person who understood her, was her brother Faleron. Here, though, she'd met Rick - who, despite the fact that his personality was the complete opposite of Meg's, was the best friend she'd ever had. He'd taken her fury with him (over the business of the stables their first day) in stride and, fortunately, not given her any more cause to yell at him. His kindness and caring made her willing to talk to him and his craziness was her link to the real world.

Meg didn't find it odd at all that she didn't have many other friends. Adair was always kind to her, giving her pointers when he could; Tier was civil as well, and Rick told Meg that he would probably give her another week or so before he judged Meg as a decent person. "Giving you too much credit, if you ask me," Rick had said coolly, then ducked as Meg reached for a book. None of the first years talked to her yet; Idren sometimes smiled at her shyly, but never said a word. And none of the third years, save Adair, as well as the two second-years Meg didn't know so well never said anything to her, or even acknowledged her presence. Regan still gave her looks that made her want to crawl under a rock and die, but to her relief, he hadn't done anything. Yet.

Being ignored or mistreated was something Meg was used to. She knew she was an unusual prescence in the boys' lives; she'd give them time to get used to her, because she wasn't planning to leave.

However, things didn't go as planned.

Rick was relating to Meg a story of how Blair and Adair switched places at the beginning of their second year and caused mass confusion, making her snort with laughter into her potatoes, when the doors of the mess hall burst open with a crash.

Everyone turned, surprised, wondering what could have caused such a crash. Being short, Meg couldn't see who had entered; but by the sudden, shocked silence and the muted, anxious whispers that filled the mess hall, she could tell it was someone big, unexpected.

Meg bit her lip, trying to see over the sea of heads and completely missing the anxious look Rick shot her. Almost as if planned, the boys parted just enough for Meg to raise her head and meet Sir Elris's furious eyes.

The silence had settled in fully, enough for Meg's yelp of terror to be heard as she shot to her feet.

Elris bared his teeth when he saw his daughter and took a few steps forward. "You..." His voice was low, his eyes not leaving his daughter's.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on either father or daughter. Meg couldn't help but notice her father was impeccably dressed, though his eyes were angry and red - he'd most likely ridden all night and day to get to Corus on time. She wildly wondered why Faleron wasn't there, then remembered he was a knight; he went wherever the Crown sent him.

Elris advanced a few more steps. His jaw was set, his posture strong, his eyes fiery; Meg could feel herself falter. Her knees grew weak and she felt faint; Rick had edged over to his friends' table, explaining in a low voice who this man was.

"How _dare _you," Elris growled, his fists clenching and unclenching. "How _dare _you defy me?"

"F-father," Meg stammered, ashamed to hear her voice quiver. She couldn't help it - her lifelong fear of her father couldn't be cooled in two weeks. She half-ran towards him, stopping a few feet away. "I-I-I was only t-trying to - "

Elris took another step forward and backhanded Meg across the face, sending her crashing to the floor with a small cry. There was a murmur of horror among the boys. Rick's jaw dropped open; he shot to his feet, rage on his face. Adair and Tier grabbed him, pulling him back down, though Adair looked rather like he wanted to do the same thing.

Meg staggered to a sitting position, tears streaming down her face. She cupped her swifly bruising cheek in her hand; four droplets of blood from Elris's fingernails begun blossoming. She looked up at her father, chin trembling; Elris looked back at her, a snarl on his face, and aimed a kick at her torso. She ducked out of the way, a sob escaping her.

Lord Padraig jumped to his feet and strode over to where father and daughter of King's Reach were. "Sir Elris," he said formally but with an undercurrent of shock. "I welcome you to the palace and to Corus, but I must ask you to not use physical violence in your treatment of - "

"She is my daughter, haMinch," Elris snarled, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. "I will treat her as I like, even in Court. This is family business." He turned his fury back on Meg, who was facing the floor and crying. "_Come, _Megenne." He grabbed her forearm, digging his nails into it, and dragged a still-sobbing Meg out of the mess hall.

When the doors slammed shut, the hall erupted with noise. Lord Padraig had to slam his goblet on the table several times to attain silence. "I will not have this matter discussed," he said sternly, then added under his breath, "At least, not that noisily."

Instantly the noise receded and Rick's table turned inward to discuss eagerly. "Well," Blair said cheerfully, "that was...interesting."

"I can't _believe _it," Rick seethed, twitching. "I can't _believe _how he treated her."

"No wonder she's so messed up," Rhysten said softly; the other first years and Rick glared at him. "What?" Rhysten demanded plaintively. "She is..."

"That's not the phrasing I would have used, Rhys," Donegal of Veldine muttered under his breath, nudging Rhysten with his elbow.

Adair was staring at the door. "Poor girl," he said softly. "How can he treat his own daughter like that?"

All of the pages turned to look at the door; then, as if someone had flipped a switch, they all turned away and the subject changed. Only Adair and Rick continued glancing at the door anxiously.

::::::

Elris's grip on Meg's arm was like iron, impossible to break. Not that Meg could have tried - she was too cowed by her father's sudden appearace and too weak from two weeks of training. He dragged her outside and into the hallway outside of the mess hall.

When he'd dragged her about ten meters, he whirled upon her, throwing her to the ground again. "So, what do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded furiously. But Meg just kept sobbing, so Elris grabbed her arm again and continued dragging her. "I can't believe you could do such a thing," he stormed at his daughter. "You will never set a foot out of King's Reach again as long as you live, you hear me? I'll never let you out of my sight. You will be in for it when we get home."

Meg felt her perfect existence here at Court collapsing about her. For all her bruises, the glares she'd recieved, the difficulty of her academic classes, compared to life at King's Reach Court had been paradise. She couldn't believe that Elris had discovered her; now she'd have to say goodbye to Ram, to Adair, to Rick. She'd never master riding, never gain the strength for combat, never even perfect her archery.

Thinking of all this upset Meg, but it also put an unusual undercurrent of anger through her entire body. It made her shake; it made her want to fight back. Without knowing what she was doing, Meg felt her furious, shaky energy charge into the spot where Elris gripped her arm.

Elris yelped and dropped his daughter's arm; Meg fell to the floor, striking it hard. She looked up at him, tear-filled eyes wide with terror. He looked from his stinging hand to Meg, slowly putting two and two together and realizing that Meg had, albeit unintentionally, used her Gift.

"You little _harlot," _Elris snarled, in a voice more venomous than Meg had ever heard him speak. He advanced on her, twitching in fury, slowly raising a hand. Meg crossed her own arms over her head and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the blow.

"Stop right there."

Elris froze and slowly, deliberately, turned in the direction of the voice. Meg's heart gave a tiny leap of hope. The voice was male and pleasantly deep - mild and calm, empty of accusation but with a hint of power and authority. She dared to open an eye and peek through her arms, seeking the owner of the voice that was her saviour.

Meg herself froze upon seeing the man in the doorway. He had a casual air, the same one that had been in his voice, but his tall, swarthy frame showed obvious strength. He was dressed plainly enough, his only distinguishing piece of clothing being his long-sleeved, loose black robe. His hair was black, wavy, and in a ponytail; he was handsome, but not overdone. He took a few steps forward, seeming to move in harmony with his surroundings. The air around him seemed to Meg to crackle with power; his prescence was overwhelming. She lowered her eyes.

"Sir Elris, I must protest your treatment of Megenne," the man said, in the same soft but powerful tone, looking Meg's father right in the eye. Numbly, Meg wondered how he knew her name.

Elris glowered at the man, though not as strongly as he had before. Had Meg been watching him, she would have noticed something like fear behind her father's normally cold eyes. "Sal - _Master _Salmalín, stay out of this. She is my daughter - even at Court, she is _my _responsibility." Despite her stunned state, Meg couldn't help a gasp - the man was _Numair Salmalín?_

She peeked out from behind her arms again, slowly straightening. Numair saw her, gave her the tiniest of smiles, then turned sternly back to Elris. "However, sir, she's now my student and therefore under my protection."

"What?!" Elris demanded, whirling on Meg, who was trying very hard not to give away Numair's bluff. "I expressly _forbid _her to do anything involving magic or the Gift!"

"That, sir, was a very foolish thing to do," Numair said icily. "Can't you see her potential? She's got the power of a mage beyond her years, and you've suppressed it. Magic lashes back when it's suppressed, as you may have noticed." He gestured to Elris's hurt hand. "Some of us know when we have gone too far," Numair said slowly and deliberately. "She is under the protection of the crown now, Sir Elris, and there's nothing you can do about it anymore."

Elris took a step back, shaking with rage. Meg could tell that even her father, in his blind fury, wouldn't dare stand up to Numair Salmalín. He looked from her to the mage, then finally snarled. "I give up. I've given the wench a home and cared for her eleven years, and here's how she repays me...bitch! You aren't my daughter! You better never show your face 'round King's Reach again, you hear me?"

Meg was too cowed to say or do anything; she remained on the floor, regarding her father with wide eyes. Elris looked from Numair's cold face to his daughter's terrified one, snarled again, and stormed out.

Meg couldn't believe what had just happened. The greatest mage in all of Tortall had defended her! And her father had as good as disowned her...what would she do now? The tears pushed at her eyes, but she turned her head downwards, refusing to cry in front of Numair Salmalín.

Suddenly there was a hand under Meg's chin, gently tilting it upwards until she looked into Numair's hazel eyes. They were gentle and caring, but blazing with power. "We will, I trust," he said softly, "see each other again, Megenne."

Caught by the mage's eyes, all Meg could do was nod. He let her go, stood, and walked away, leaving the girl shaking in the middle of the hallway. Once she was sure he was out of earshot, Meg collapsed and gave into the sobs that wracked her slender frame. She cried out of pain, fury, hopelessness, shock, confusion; she cried for the simple life she'd left behind, and she cried because she preferred this new, complicated life so much it scared her.

Meg didn't know how long she'd been crying before she felt two hands on her shoulder, gently lifting her to her feet. She raised bloodshot eyes to Rick's concerned face. "Come on," he said softly, towing her down the hallway. "There's someone I think you should talk to."


End file.
